EPISODE4
1194 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
The Next Morning
Ana’s phone alarm buzzed before dawn. She lay still, listening to the soft rise and fall of Noah’s breathing beside her. Nasal cannula in place, he slept like a small soldier resting between battles.
She tiptoed to the window of her cramped apartment, pulling aside the curtain to a gray sky. Rain had fallen overnight, and the city streets gleamed wet and empty. Today was the day she’d either secure her son’s future… or watch him slip further away.
She dressed quickly in dark jeans and a simple sweater, securing her damp hair in a low ponytail. Over coffee that tasted like burnt wire, she reviewed Cassian’s terse text: “9 a.m. Thorne Corp. No exceptions.”
No exceptions.
That’s how he’d always conducted business—by eliminating flexibility, forcing compliance. Now the child of that same man depended on her ability to push past every barrier he erected.
At 8:15, she hailed a cab, clutching Noah’s school photo and the hospital file in her bag. Traffic was sparse, but the ride felt endless. By 8:45 she stood again at Thorne Corp’s entrance, umbrella collapsed, coat buttoned. Her palms dampened. She told herself she was ready—but readiness didn’t ease the knot in her stomach.
She rode the elevator to the 32nd floor alone. The doors opened onto a silent hallway. No reception desk. No receptionist. Just the polished door marked THORNE in black steel.
She knocked once.
“Come in,” Cassian’s voice called from inside.
She entered. The suite was brighter in daylight—white marble floors, light pouring through windows that wrapped around the skyline. At the center of it all stood Cassian, tailored in charcoal, arms folded, eyes fixed on her.
“No phones,” he reminded, nodding at the small device in her hand. She tucked it into her bag.
He motioned to the single chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”
She settled into the seat, kneading her fingers together. On the desk lay the hospital file she’d given him yesterday, now open. Next to it: a small sealed envelope.
He didn’t speak for a long moment. Then: “I have the results.”
Her breath caught.
“Paternity is confirmed.”
Her throat closed. She blinked rapidly. The room spun slightly. Finally, she whispered, “He’s mine.”
Cassian’s lips remained flat. “He is.”
She touched the photograph again, smoothing its edges. “So he… you’re a match?”
He nodded once. “I’m a match.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. “Thank you.”
He raised a hand. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Her chest tightened. “What do you mean?”
Cassian stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city. “This changes nothing about our agreement.”
Ana’s heart sank. “But—”
“This is business.” His jaw tightened. “Your son needs treatment. I will provide the donor match. I will donate plasma. You will schedule the procedure through my hospital—no other. Those are the terms.”
She fought to steady her voice. “Okay. Agreed.”
“Good.” He turned. “And I expect full transparency. No lies. No surprises.”
She nodded. Relief and dread warred inside her. “You have my word.”
Cassian’s gaze was steely. “Then you’ll keep your son alive.”
She wanted to kiss him, thank him, something. Instead she said simply, “He will live.”
He sat again, tapping his pen on the desk. “Now. I have a board meeting at ten. I’ll personally sign the release paperwork on your way out. You have exactly thirty minutes to finalize everything with my legal.”
Ana stood. “Thank you.” Her voice was small.
Cassian inclined his head once and returned to his window.
---
Outside his office, Ana followed Mara Lowell into a side conference room. Mara closed the door and motioned to a leather chair.
“You have thirty minutes,” Mara said crisply, sliding paperwork across the table. “Sign here, here, here.”
Ana scanned the forms: medical releases, liability waivers, confidentiality clauses. More NDAs layered on NDAs. She sighed.
“You’ll see the doctor on the 45th floor,” Mara continued. “He’ll draw the samples, process them, and we’ll begin the first infusion by this afternoon. You’re free to go after that.”
Ana signed each page without reading every line. Fear made her cursive shaky.
Mara watched her with sharp amber eyes. “Cassian expects discretion.”
Ana nodded. “I understand.”
Mara hesitated. “He cares.”
Ana looked up. “He’s doing this for Noah.”
Mara’s expression softened briefly. “He doesn’t believe in family, but he’s… changed.”
Ana’s heart clenched. “Thank you.”
Mara’s gaze flicked away. “I’ll arrange your access badge.” She stood abruptly. “You have ten minutes.”
Ana left the room, filing the papers into her bag. She paused outside the elevator, gathering herself. The gray afternoon light felt heavy—like the weight of what lay ahead.
She texted Nurse Julie: “Arriving soon. I love you.”
No reply. She smiled through tears.
---
By noon, Ana sat in a glass-walled exam room on the 45th floor, watching a technician label vials of her blood alongside Cassian’s. The boy’s future depended on this exchange—her son’s survival on the precise match of their cells.
Cassian stood at the door, discreet but unwavering. He watched the needles pierce his son’s blood in two separate stations. He didn’t leave. He didn’t look away.
Ana glanced at him. “Thank you.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued observing the machines with an intensity she’d never seen applied to any boardroom deal.
When the process ended, Cassian closed the door behind him, folding his arms. “You’ve done well.”
She exhaled. “We’re only halfway there.”
He nodded. “True. But consider this step one.”
Her eyes brimmed. “Thank you.”
Cassian looked at her then, something unfamiliar in his gaze. Concern? Softness? She dared to hope.
He turned away. “Let’s go.”
---
In the lobby of Thorne Corp, Mara handed Ana her access badge. “You’re free to go,” she said.
Ana nodded. “Thank you, Mara.”
Mara paused. “He… cares. Don’t forget that.”
Ana managed a small smile. “I won’t.”
She walked to the street, the badge and the papers heavy in her hand. Snow had started to fall—a soft promise of change.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Cassian: “Document signing tomorrow. Be there.”
She tucked the phone away and looked up at the tower one last time before turning toward home.
Ana thought of Noah, waiting in his crib for her return. She pictured his face, his smile, his small fist waving goodnight.
He will live, s
he reminded herself, stepping into the falling snow. And as the flurries dusted her hair and coat, she whispered into the cold: Thank you, Cassian.
- Writer
